


Scrutiny

by Zerrah



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Stalking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:19:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8116111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerrah/pseuds/Zerrah
Summary: The reactions were primitive but still there. An unpleasant churning in his gut. Goosebumps that crept up his arms and down his back whenever he passed Sickbay. The unpleasant sensation of being watched. They certainly weren't logical.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for non-consensual voyeurism!

Spock's eyebrow raised as he read the message from Engineering on his PADD. All sonic showers on his level would be shut down for maintenance until morning. Until then, he would be forced to make do with a shower. Spock suppressed a small shudder. Vulcans found large quantities of liquids, especially the Earth practice of submerging in water, to be repellent. The sensation of thousands of droplets of water hitting his skin and sliding down his frame made his skin crawl. But personal hygiene was a priority over the few unpleasant minutes it would take to wash himself.

Spock found many moments unpleasant as of late, even though he could not form a solid theory as to the reason.

The reactions were primitive but still there. An unpleasant churning in his gut. Goosebumps that crept up his arms and down his back whenever he passed Sickbay. The unpleasant sensation of being watched. They certainly weren't _logical._

So Spock ignored them. He performed his duties as Commander and Science Officer with inexorable efficiency and competency.

He could not, however, stand to be alone in his quarters for very long. His skin began to itch, as if it were a flimsy defense against an invisible predator. The only time he felt at ease was in the company of fellow crewmembers.

Spock took his meals in the mess hall more often than not. He also insisted on playing chess with Jim in the captain's ready room. Spock did not wish to examine his own motivation for these choices.

Spock felt as though it had been a long time since he had felt truly rested. Vulcans did not require sleep every night as humans did, but whenever he woke there was a residual smell as if someone had passed through his quarters, even though he knew this to be impossible. Jim was the only one who could access his rooms uninvited, and while he knew his captain often suffered from bouts of insomnia and restlessness, Jim was quite respectful of Spock's personal space and boundaries. Especially after the choking incident.

After several weeks, Spock was putting serious consideration into asking Dr. McCoy for help. McCoy had the authorization to provide sedatives to Spock. Peace and clarity were beginning to seem more and more elusive.

Spock repressed a most illogical sigh as he methodically stripped and entered his bathroom. If only he were a full Vulcan, self-control would never be an issue.

*********************

 

McCoy couldn't help a smirk of satisfaction as he watched Spock undress on the screen before him. Seemed like the hybrid had gotten the memo, but hadn't bothered to check with Engineering or even the neighboring quarters. McCoy had rigged Spock's showers and planned to contact Engineering to get them fixed during Spock's shift the following morning.  


McCoy hardly ever saw Spock naked anymore, and it just wasn't fair. Whenever he'd sneak into Spock's quarters at night--using his medical override, of course--the hybrid was fully clothed under the sheets. He'd watch the gentle rise and fall of the blankets, the soft pulse of a Vulcan heart from Spock's torso. The sight was enchanting, but it wasn't enough. McCoy needed more.  


Sonic showers only took a few seconds, so when McCoy had installed cameras in Spock's bathroom, he was disappointed when he could only see Spock naked for as long as it took the Vulcan to undress, clean himself, and redress--less than a minute.

McCoy eased back in the seat behind his desk as he watched Spock hesitantly step into the shower, felt the swell of his cock press against the front of his pants. There was a camera level with Spock's groin, one above and behind the Vulcan that took in the broad shoulders and perfect ass, and one to the side that captured Spock's facial expressions. They were minute, but they were still there. Spock wasn't as emotionless as many believed.

Spock took some soap and lathered up, suds covering his arms, chest, sliding down the front of his stomach where a thin trail of hair lead to a soft, big, heavy green cock. McCoy bit his lip and unzipped his pants, savoring the view.

Spock's skin glistened, turning a flushed green color as the heat from the showers--probably hot enough to burn a human, but comfortable for a Vulcan--drew blood its surface. McCoy wanted to reach out and bite it, lick the slippery skin and suck bruises there. McCoy gripped his cock tighter, felt it swell as he tugged at it leisurely.

Spock cleaned himself thoroughly, rubbing the suds everywhere, down the sides of his ribs, up his neck, between his ass cheeks and, pulling his dick to the side, massaging the soap into his pubic hair to get it clean. McCoy dragged his hand up and down his cock, refusing to reach for the medical lube he knew was stored in the top drawer of his desk. He preferred it a little rough.

Spock reached down to clean his legs. It provided the perfect view of his rear end, and McCoy groaned. McCoy imagined massaging Spock's ass, parting a cheek to one side and slipping one, two slippery-wet fingers inside. Spock wouldn't have room then to stand up in the shower, he'd be forced to grip his ankles as McCoy pressed his cock against him, pushing the cheeks together as he rutted against Spock's cleft. His foreskin would drag as he thrust between them.

Precome leaked from McCoy's swollen cock and he was short of breath, his hand gliding up and down the velvety-hot length, faster and faster. Spock straightened and turned his back to rinse off, the soapy suds washed away and swirling down the drain. Then, he reached for shampoo.  


Spock massaged his scalp, rinsed. Wet hair clung to Spock's neck, made his eyes look big and vulnerable. He looked perfect and untouchable, but also tense, disquieted, as if a sudden movement would make him start or flinch. As if he knew McCoy was watching.

The dark eyes, parted lips, and drenched hair were enough to send McCoy over the edge. He let out a loud, satisfied moan and shot thick liquid all over the screen. All over Spock's face.  


Except it wasn't really coating Spock's skin. Just like McCoy hadn't really touched Spock.  


McCoy milked the last of his orgasm, feeling the organ soften gradually, and contemplated Spock's image as a wolf would zero in on its prey. Spock dried off with a towel and began to dress. Even fully clothed, his hair was still delightfully damp. McCoy wanted to press Spock against the wall, shocking the hybrid into passivity, and lick rivulets of water off his neck. He wanted to taste and bite and claim.

Watching wasn't enough anymore, McCoy decided as he tucked himself away and turned off the screens.

Soon it was time to leave his mark on Spock. McCoy smiled, and his spent cock twitched with anticipation.


End file.
